Spectre
by Brindheir
Summary: Fall of the Commonwealth.... or is it just the beginning


Disclaimer: These characters were not mine. Andromeda is the copyright of Tribune Entertainment. This story was created simply from my imagination and no wrong intent has been conceived on my part. Some references from the All Systems University Web site were used (the timeline being one of them). This is my first writing for Andromeda, actually my first Fan Fiction writing ever. 

I apologize now for anything that may seem offensive (whatever that may be).

I also apologize for its length. 

****

SPECTRE

By

Brindheir

**__**

"It's not that the Nietzscheans had better ships or better soldiers. It's not that they had a coherent battle strategy and it's certainly not that they had better intelligence. It happened because, for one brief moment, a fractured Commonwealth faced a foe united of purpose..." 

- Bortheumal, "Fall of the Commonwealth"

****

10087 CY

Captain Dylan Hunt lay on his bed gazing out an oval window overhead showing the bright blue and reddish hues of the Dragon Nebula. The one thing...the only thing, that 300 years of change did not affect was the beauty of space. 

If only Sarah was there, lying beside him. 

If only Gar had made it to the slipstream in time. If only, If only .....

He closed his eyes sorting out his hidden voices. His crew (such as it was) was a rabble of dissenting opinions, rash actions, and clandestine motives. When he had offered them the chance to work for something better, to live for a cause greater than self-gratification, he knew that they had no choice but to accept. He had watched them enough, when retaking his ship, to know that much.

But he didn't count on just how much the decision to go along with him (he hesitated to use the word follow, for they didn't really follow him) was strengthened by the knowledge that they had nothing better to do at the moment. 

Where was the ideology? Where was the optimism? Where was the sacrifice? 

He knew he was distancing himself from them...and yet, these people were aliens...

The Commonwealth? They would stare at him with blank expressions, or expressions of amusement as one might to a child who says something funny.

All they knew was a life at war. Incredibly hard.

All he knew was a life of peace. Soft, they would say mockingly. 

Tyr's taunt a few days ago, 

__

"Let your belly go hungry for a few days and see if this glorious mission of yours will not be put aside until it is satisfied."

"It's called sacrifice, Tyr" he'd retorted

"Sacrifice? That is the excuse the foolish use to justify expending their own depleted reserves for dead causes."

"Why Tyr, I didn't know you cared?" Came Dylan's wry reply.

...and Tyr would walk away in disgust. Both of them unsatisfied. 

...and Valentine?

"Dylan, your artifact has been captured." Intruded Beka Valentine's voice upon his thoughts (speak of the Devil).

"Beka, " he replied sounding tired, "it's a starship's SCRAM unit."

"Which stands for?" she prompted, irritated.

"It stands for...well, something unpronounceable. The language is Vedran. Humans came up with the acronym because they couldn't say it."

"How utterly uninteresting but now that it's done, Tyr suggests we get the hell out of here. Drift particles from the Nebula are lighting our sensor probes up like a nova. No sense tempting Magog swarms any more than we have."

"Agreed, Dylan out"

He returned to his thoughts.

Valantine? Yes, she watched him like a hawk. Frowning with disapproval every time he uttered a word that remotely sounded like an order.

What did he do to deserve this "Queen of Ice" for his second in command? 

And...and... dammit... only one planet signed a charter for Commonwealth restoration. The Than were positive to the idea...but only one planet had signed...out of?

What was the total size of the Commonwealth? One million planets?

(sigh)

Out of the shadows came Rev Bem's subtle point regarding Harper. The truth was he DID expect them to act High Guard. To think High Guard. To be...High Guard.

Then as his eyes started to close ... he smiled, chuckling lightly... Queen of Ice... now just where had he heard that before?

***

Rommie looked at the object resting on a Science Lab scanning table. It was 4 feet long, cylindrical and made of an alloy rarely found on a planet... if at all. 

These things were built to withstand a lot of punishment, she thought, as she noted the surface pitted and scarred.

SCRAM's were the High Guard's equivalent of the message in a bottle. They were outfitted to contain any information the Captain of a vessel deemed appropriate and necessary should his vessel's function be in jeopardy. It was also designed to be a sort of emergency lifeboat for a ship's artificial intelligence. 

The Temple of Shining Light brought the argument to the High Guard Command who's policy was if the crew were to be forced to abandon ship, the ship's AI could (and would) be transferred to an appropriate avatar. The Keepers of the Temple contested that the avatar's range was not only limited, but unreliable. Several AI's had been lost along with their doomed ships which, it was argued, was an unacceptable waste. Hence the decision to modify the SCRAM unit. 

SCRAMs were outfitted with a beacon signal that only High Guard ships could receive. Upon Andromeda's entry in system, she immediately picked it up. Dylan automatically ordered it retrieved much to the angst of his crew, especially upon learning the SCRAM's vessel of origin. 

However, Rommie was confused. 

Why didn't he tell them of the purpose of a SCRAM? 

What was the reason for his secrecy regarding this object? 

She searched her active memory for any information regarding the vessel of origin but could find, other than the name, nothing.

Tigris Vanguard.

Curious.

This SCRAM's design was different from others she had previously encountered. Just where is the data link? 

She began a level 2 scan of the object to identify any recognizable features. Her eyes narrowed as the scans were reflected back. Impenetrable. 

She would need Dylan, she concluded, as he seemed to be the only one familiar with this SCRAM. She called out for Andromeda.

The hologram appeared in his room automatically calling out.

"Captain?"

And there he was; eyes closed, on his bed. He wore a slight smile as if to say to the galaxy that he had things well under control. 

His eyes opened at the sound of her voice.

"Andromeda? Problem?"

"Rommie is having trouble accessing the SCRAM. Apparently there is no technical data...actually no data at all regarding the ship it's from."

"No. There wouldn't be. I should have thought of that earlier. Access my command files, heading 'Empress'. The signal recognition data should be there."

"Accessed. Activation requires your authorization code, sir." And after a pause, " Sir, just what kind of ship was the Tigris Vanguard."

Dylan wearily called out his authorization, "Dylan Hunt, Commanding Andromeda Ascendant, affirm Omega Vanguard. And to answer your question, the Tigris was a warship, Radiant Class" 

"The class I replaced." She finished, "Thank you sir...Activating." And the hologram's face took on a frown as her eyes went blank and information passed from her to Rommie.

After a minute, life returned to her image, "Sir, you will want to see this. The ship...." She stopped as she saw that he was fast asleep.

"It can wait sir." She whispered.

She gazed at him a little while longer and then blinked out of existence. 

***

****

9783 CY (300 years earlier)

Jason Nathaniel walked with a sense of purpose accompanied by his second in command, Thax Saccour. He hated meetings, especially in the immense offices of Tarn-Vedra. Endless arguing over issues already decided in a vain attempt to find some type of leverage for some political body. He had a ship to run and a mission to fulfill and the sooner he left system the better. 

The Tigris was a Radiant Class starship with a crew compliment of about a 1,000. For 200 years this Class represented the backbone of Commonwealth and High Guard policy. But, in the tradition of governments and military organizations, the Radiant design was enlarged upon and refined. The newer Glorious Heritage vessels now held the accolade as "Pearls of the Commonwealth". 

Upon being assigned to her, Jason fell in love. He fought the bureaucracy of the High Guard to keep the ship from simply being decommissioned and it's AI transferred. After the Treaty of Antares the Vanguard's were set up and the Tigris was rechristened, Tigris Vanguard. 

Now, the Tigris AI was pushing for departure and after being kept in stationary orbit over Tarn-Vedra for two days, the crew was pushing as well. The High Guard simply held the ship on station while seemingly waiting for something. What, Jason didn't know. If this continues any longer, he would push for reinstated leave or he'd have a mutiny on his hands. Orbiting the capital void of purpose and unable to leave the ship was like holding a sizzling, juicy steak in front of a starving man and telling him he had to stand there and watch it. Then the word had come, recalling him back to High Guard Command.

Their black battle uniforms clashed with the High Guard's counterpart, which drew some attention from passersby. With all the attention he felt like an intruder within these hallowed grounds. For many millennia the High Guard has been the most powerful organized force among the galaxies and these walls have stood the test of time. Not even the Succession War of 2937 could bring them down.

They were stopped just short of the Anteroom Chamber by several guards. At first they looked ceremonial to Jason, but the closer they approached he could see that ceremony was the last thing on their mind.

"Jason, they aren't High Guard." Whispered Thax 

Jason glanced a questioning look mirroring his companion's. The guards' uniform was a little more elaborate but nevertheless functional. Their faces were covered with some sort of environmental mask and they never spoke; only gestured slightly to each other.

"They are heavily armed," he whispered back as they approached.

The guards enclosed them running several scanners over them so efficiently that if Jason had not been watching closely, he would have missed them. When the guards were apparently satisfied they moved away allowing the two to proceed past the opening metallic doors.

The room revealed a large table with a handful of people seated. Jason recognized Admiral Stark of the High Guard and Arbiter Archon representing Tarn-Vedra and the Empress. There were two others who were introduced as Captain Dylan Hunt and his first officer Gaheris Rhade of the Andromeda Ascendant.

When the greetings were over, the room took on a slightly blueish aura. Jason knew this to mean that the room was now secured from the outside and the meeting started.

It was not the kind of meeting he expected.

*

When it was over the Admiral and the Arbiter left followed by his guards. The officers of both ships remained.

Jason was simply silent as he contemplated the ramifications of what he was told. He saw Dylan Hunt staring at him with concern. The consequences were not lost on him either.

Garheris Rhade spoke first, "How long do you think it will take for the High Guard to make this weapon standard in the fleet?"

"Never, if we are lucky. There is only one." Dylan answered.

Jason's eyes moved to the other Captain.. "This move is entirely political Commander. Several decades ago the Isolationists called a referendum to disband the High Guard. The Magog attacks forced the Commonwealth to dismiss the referendum indefinitely thus weakening that faction's cause."

Thax flashed a grim smile, "Then the Empress engineered the Antares Treaty with the Magog, with the backing of the High Guard and the Triumvirate."

Dylan turned to Rhade, "Antares was a double edged sword for the Empress. On the one hand, the Commonwealth's subjects no longer lived with the Magog's swarm attacks, and yet with the threat of outside attacks quelled, the immediate need of the High Guard is once again diminished."

Rhade frowned, "Why? The Magog were and are still a threat. They slaughtered Brandenburg Tor. Their nature has not changed!" he slammed his hand on the table, "Now, in the face of these circumstances, the Commonwealth wishes to disarm itself?"

Jason looked at Rhade, "The key is immediate threat. Obviously the threat is not gone but opposing political factions are gaining strength as a result of the Treaty. The Empress wishes to appease them before they gain momentum. Hence, she pushed for the creation of the Vanguards and this weapon."

Thax, "The weapon would appease the Isolationists."

Dylan continued, "While it goes against every belief of the Commonwealth. I mean, what if this thing were used within our own systems?"

Rhade completed the picture, "Instant Dark Age."

Jason lowered his head and placed his hand on his forehead, "At least Vanguard ships will be the only one's carrying it should more be developed."

"How many ships comprise this Vanguard division?" Rhade asked.

Jason smiled thinly, "Sorry, that's classified. Only the Empress' people and the High Guard Command really know that answer."

Thax turned to his Captain, "I am surprised that the Empress got away with this weapon's development and creation without being held in check by the Triumvirate. I mean, she is mostly a figurehead isn't she? At least that is what the history books say."

Rhade laughed, "The Empress is Vedran, and Tarn-Vedra is the foundation of the Commonwealth. They have never let anyone forget that!"

Dylan's eyes narrowed at his hotheaded second in command, "Careful Rhade. "

Jason smiled, "Sorry, Captain. I am with your Commander on this one. The Empress is the Queen of Ice. I don't think she'd have any problems getting what she wants. She never did like just being a figurehead."

Dylan frowned and Jason laughed at this reaction. The first real good laugh he had had that day.

Rhade turned to Dylan, "Shock briefly paralyzes opponent. Opponent is speechless and vulnerable. Stares dumbly around realizing that his good sense of propriety has been ambushed."

Thax grinned, "By God, we need some Nietzscheans on our ship!" he exclaimed.

Rhade still looking at Dylan, "Because we are better at strategy and better soldiers. Because," he added emphatically, "we are winners."

Jason picked up on the byplay between the other Captain and his Exec. Officer and grinned., "Actually they could be very valuable in a jam. When they switch sides on you, you know you're pretty much screwed."

Rhade looked sharply at Jason and Dylan smiled at the other Captain's attempt to help him.

Dylan changed the subject, "I hear that your ship is has an avatar of flesh. I believe the term is "Ship made flesh?"

Jason smiled, "One of the few vessels like that. Tigris is one of the earlier models. No split personality or anything. She spends her time between controlling or monitoring the ship's functions from the cerebellum to interacting with the crew through the avatar. She can switch between the two quickly through wireless interfaces stationed on every deck."

"That's why the High Guard went to the multiple personality algorithms. To remove the interfaces." Dylan commented.

"Yeah, but to be honest, that might change her personality. And she wouldn't want that. It wouldn't seem natural to have her missing. She's invaluable as a member of the crew."

Rhade eyed him warily, "I just bet she is. Never no mind that she isn't bad on the eyes."

"She has saved several crew members' lives."

Before Rhade had a chance to make another comment, Dylan said, "Come on, let's get out of here Rhade. Captain, Commander," turning to the other men, "good hunting."

Jason nodded to the Captain of Andromeda and stood to leave as well.

When they had left the building Thax asked, "Jason, what is happening here?"

He took one last look at Tarn-Vedra before entering his shuttle, "I don't know, but I tell you, I don't like it."

***

****

10087 CY 

"What was the weapon?" asked Andromeda.

Dylan stopped his shaving and turned to the hologram, "Captain Nathaniel didn't say?"

"There were references but I do not believe that I understood the account completely. At least the part that wasn't incrypted for Captain's Eye's Only."

Dylan returned to his shaving, "No, you understood it all right."

"But Captain, the destruction of a system's slipstream? The Commonwealth had that kind of power? What possible use..?" Andromeda suddenly stopped, "Captain, I believe you should look at the upload."

Dylan pulled a towel from his face, let out a sigh and walked over to a monitor. He started punching in his access codes to unlock the rest of the information from the Tigris Vanguard.

"I have mixed feelings about this Andromeda. Thinking about this SCRAM makes me wonder, will we ever have to launch ours? And if so, what would I say? What would it show? How would it be viewed if found?"

"Captain, how could you possibly be viewed as anything other than a hero? A champion of the Commonwealth?" came her quick reply.

"And if we were destroyed tomorrow? Where's the Commonwealth then? Where is our bright shining moment?"

The silence hung in the room like a dark cloud for a moment. "Still, thanks for the vote of confidence. Show me what you've got.

"There you go, Captain." Andromeda's hologram disappeared.

...and the audio/visual information poured out of the monitor.

***

****

9783 CY - Tarn-Vedra

The Empress Sucharitkul XII sat behind a desk reviewing reports and making notations when the Arbiter of her royal house walked in.

"Your Majesty, You must leave these tasks to your staff and your officials."

The Empress looked at the older man with a frown, "Why you are right, of course, Archon. Why do I not just let Eriannukt further divide the Commonwealth and sow dissent among us? Why do I not just bare my neck and have him slit it?"

With practiced patience born of experience, "I do not think that dividing the High Guard helps the Commonwealth's cause."

"Thirty-five ships, Archon! Ships that are being replaced anyway! The High Guard could not be more united with their massive new Glorious Heritage vessels. Thirty-five retired ships will not hurt them but it will go far to appeasing the Isolationists."

"Appeasing the problem is not the same as solving it."

"Do not tell me you have a gun?" she asked conspiratorially. And then sighed, as if humor were a heavier burden than overseeing Commonwealth interests.

"The appeasement and weapon bought us time, Archon. I am recalling the Home Guard to permanent Vedra duty. I have wrangled, at least, that concession from the Triumvirate."

The Arbiter's eyes widened, "My lady, that will weaken the High Guard immensely! Surely the Triumvirate wouldn't..."

"They see an avenue for peace. And if I am to be that link, I need to bargain from a position of strength. The Magog wil respect me as a person to deal with if backed by the ships."

Archon eye's narrowed, "The Isolationists will have your head if they knew you were working on a deal to bring the Magog into the Commonwealth."

"They will tolerate my actions for a while because of the weapon. And when the Magog join, it will be too late to do anything about it. Hopefully, the Triumvirate will have gotten the Nietzscheans back into government participation by then." She sighed. "Archon, we need to move carefully. Too many things are hanging in the balance here and either they will work or blow up totally in our faces. I hate to think what the worse case senario out of this would be."

"How long do you think the High Guard will prove to be the deterrent we need it to be, my lady? With the Home Guard recalled, the High Guard's strength will be cut in half. And by concentrating such a force here, while appeasing those pro-Vedra factions you further distance the Commonwealth. The Commonwealth is more than Tarn-Vedra."

The Empress looked up from her writing. "Not much more," she commented briefly letting her aristocratic prejudice show.

"Beware, your Highness."

"Whose attacking us, Archon? The Triumvirate has enough on its hands with the sudden Nietzschean inactivity within the Conclave. And I will not allow a political coup of the Commonwealth to happen on our watch! The High Guard can build more ships. In fact, their new budget appropriation will be double from what I hear. What I am not hearing is the reason for your interruption."

"My lady, several Magog attacks have been reported.."

"How large?" came the immediate inquiry.

"Relatively small, but they look too much like precursors to an invasion. You had better be very sure of your Magog contact for this so-called peace."

"Invasion?" asked the Empress incredulously. "They would not dare cross the Quarantine Zone enmasse. The Nietzscheans would get their wish for certain and eliminate every one of them. Assign two Vanguards to investigate."

"Ah yes, your own private army." The Arbiter murmured.

"The people's army, Archon. The Voice of the People voted. Remember that. Think that. Say that. I must get back to my work. "

"As you wish, your highness." Said the Arbiter bowing. "Just remember the Magog's warnings. If their clan ambassador is killed, there will be retribution 'the likes of which we have yet to experience'. The High Guard would be well pressed to stop them and I would hate to think what would happen if they could not."

***

****

10087 CY

The information contained in the SCRAM was...disturbing to say the least.

He concentrated, trying to remember all the little nuances of the time. His life. It seemed odd to him, now that he thought about it, how at almost every point in his life, the High Guard factored prominently.

The High Guard. It was a part of him. Not something he did but rather something he was. He felt that deeply and yet...

What was he struggling to create? An association of planets labeled the Commonwealth?

Was that enough?

Even as he asked the question, his mind realized the answer. He wanted something more. Something to fill the void left in his heart. Something to fill the void in a silent galaxy. Something that would end this 

'Long Night' forever.

Tigris Vanguard. What lessons are to be found within your archives?

The door to his quarters signaled indicating someone outside. He pushed a button admitting Rev Bem.

Dylan narrowed his eyes at the Magog. "Just how do you do that?"

The Magog did a passable imitation of a human shrug. "The Divine increases our awareness of those silently hurting...""

Dylan raised an eyebrow.

"...and Rommie informed me that you might be needing me," admitted Rev.

The Captain laughed a sad laugh. "I wonder if you can help me. Tell me Rev, just what are we doing?"

"I know what I am doing. I wonder, then, if your question really is: What are you doing?"

Dylan paused. "I thought I was restoring the Commonwealth."

"What has changed that?" Inquired the Magog.

"This. Look." And Dylan moved so Rev could see the archives on his monitor; the information from the Tigris Vanguard.

* 

After some time, while Dylan sat contemplating, Rev said quietly, "I understand."

He turned to look at the brooding Captain. "The question you must answer before a direction is taken is: Just what is the Commonwealth?"

Dylan's eyes flickered briefly, "A champion of Truth, Peace, and Justice throughout the universe. A force used for the good of the people, rather than the few. A force where people of all planets work together for their mutual benefit, not out of a selfish motive. Rev, our knowledge and achievement was unmatched!"

The Magog has heard this speech or similar before but Dylan's eyes and voice betrayed a forced passion this time. It was as if the Captain was trying to remember something forgotten; something out of time.

Then he recalled something he read once. An old text. "'As I look out among these people of the Commonwealth, I see hope. I see promise. I see a thirst for something greater. 

Tell me, which of you would not come to the aid of his fellow citizen? Tell me, which of you would not willingly sacrifice himself so that our children might sleep just one more night in peace? Which one of you...'"

Dylan continued the quote, "'...will change our traditions? Which one of you will challenge our greatest minds? I say this here and now: all will! In this civilization there is no "one". Bound not by circumstances but by choice. Evolving not by environment but by desire. Changing not out of necessity, but by challenge. Together, seize the opportunities in front of you! Together stand up in the face of challenge! And together, carry our Commonwealth into another era.'" Dylan looked at his Magog companion. 

"That is what the Commonwealth is all about, Rev."

Rev Bem smiled. "and yet what I find most interesting is that the speaker was not referring to the Commonwealth so much as he was the High Guard; future High Guard officers if I am not mistaken."

"But the two are.."

"No, Captain. That's the problem. They never were. You see, the Systems Commonwealth was the greatest civilization ever conceived. As Captain Nathaniel's tale pointed out, there was only one flaw that kept it from truly growing into something more. There was only one thing that prevented the next stage; that prevented transcendence. Captain Hunt, you lived during a very pivotal time for your civilization. The galaxies whispered promises of infinite potential and unimaginable growth. But only a fraction of the 

population were ready for such growth. The Commonwealth ideology held dear only to a small few...and the majority of those few were High Guard."

Dylan stared into nothingness while the Magog's words hit home. Rev stood up.

"The Divine works in mysterious ways, Captain. Those ways may be hard at times or even painful; but they are never wrong. Every species has this evolutionary flaw... and every species must find a way to outgrow it. That flaw is pride. The Commonwealth could not grow anymore, the people could not...would not transcend. And so they were humbled, in the most painful of ways: The Long Night. We all need reminding sometimes, Captain. When compared to this universe, we are not so great after all. We are not gods."

His voice went softer and he put his claw on Dylan's shoulder. "You never finished Captain Nathaniel's account did you?"

"No," admitted Dylan, "I just didn't ...I didn't want..."

"Finish it, Captain. The High Guard have always been the guardians of higher enlightenment. They are the teachers, the keepers, the warriors and the explorers. Don't unite the galaxy under the title, as before. Fulfill your mission. Unite it under the ideal. The Long Night has run its course. The people have suffered enough. The lessons of bygone days have been impressed upon them a hundred-fold. They are now ready for that enlightenment. Captain, teach it."

...and the Magog left the Andromeda's Captain alone with his thoughts. After a while, he turned back to the monitor.

"Alright, Jason. What happened?"

***

****

9784 CY - Conclave Assembly, Last meeting of the Voice of the Sectors

excerpt - 

The Empress stood on a podium surrounded by representatives from all over the Commonwealth.

Soon, she thought. Soon they would be primed for the Magog delegate, Ambassador of the Clans. His ship should arrive any minute now and my Vanguards will move to protect him. Soon the board will be wiped clean. The Isolationists' back broken when it's announced that we have no more enemies. The Nietzschean's appeased when we announce Brandenburg Tor's return to the Commonwealth, a monument to those who died and to peace. 

The thoughts ran so fast, she almost smiled.

One hand is in the air, "The truth is that the Commonwealth is divided!" She pounded on the podium for added emphasis. "We cannot move forward, we cannot grow until we come back together. The Commonwealth was not founded on the principles of one planet, one system. WE ARE ALL EQUAL! I call for a referendum for Reunification! The squabbling must stop!" 

The delegates stood up clapping loudly. Hundreds of thousands of delegates.

"Stop?" boomed a voice from the Nietzschean representative. "While the Vedrans talk of dissolving the Systems Commonwealth by shutting themselves off from everyone? Stop, while these very same Vedran Isolationists gain the power to dictate this policy? Stop, dear Empress, while you travel the Commonwealth with your own private army blinding us to your true intentions?"

A great silence fell. The delegates began to speak rapidly among themselves over this serious breach of protocol. Their voices started to reach a frantic pitch from all the mounting tension. The Empress looked down at the Nietzschean delegate. So self assured and haughty.

"You speak like a Beta," she taunted. "Your words laced with fear, fear of thirty-five ships."

"Do you deny..." rallied the Nietzschean.

"Those ships are helping to strengthen the Commonwealth! They are High Guard! They are the watchers, the ones making sure that Brandenburg Tor does not happen again at the hands of another race of beings. They are protecting you, you fool!" Check, she thought.

The Nietzchean uncharateristically didn't rise to her insults. "Are they?" he asked.

Suddenly, his hands came together in a loud clap and Nietzschean soldiers marched in with a Magog captive in tow, bound and gagged. They dropped it at the feet of their delegate, standing in front of the Empress.

"How many Magog, since your vaunted Treaty, have we found?" He asked pointedly.

The Empress was speechless as she looked at the Magog struggle on the floor. A Magog she had come to know. A Magog known throughout his race. Ambassador to the Clans. He rolled over and looked up toward the Empress, unflinching even as the myriads of Commonwealth races looked down upon him. Their fear, suddenly slipping into a loathing.

There was no fear in his eyes. Only...victory.

Upon recognizing this, the Empress' eyes began to water...

...and then the Nietzschean speaker pulled out a firearm and blew the Magog's head off.

"We will protect our own." He told the room, and walked out followed by the soldiers. 

The Empress had staggered back at the sight of the dead Magog. It happened so fast! Checkmate. She desperately looked for Archon, her eyes pleading for an answer.

And in the audience, Arbiter Archon met those eyes briefly before lowering his head. 

"So, it has begun." He whispered.

***

****

10087 CY

When it was over, Dylan turned to see the hologram appear. He was slowly digesting what he had seen and read. Incredible!

"Add this to the library Andromeda. In fact, I would like you to show it to the others and let them see what they captured. Let them see everything." Then as an afterthought, "And have the crew assemble at the Captain's Table at seventeen hundred hours."

Andromeda looked curiously at her Captain. Something had definitely changed him. 

"Yes, Sir." And the hologram was gone.

Dylan looked about with a new perspective. Yes, Andromeda had a weakeness. A weakness that he was unforgivably perpetuating and allowing to grow. This basic truth calling to him from another era. It was time to change. Time to grow, he thought ruefully. And to think, a Magog helped him find his way.

He left his quarters a Captain on a mission.

***

****

9784 CY

__

"End Report: Drake's Planet, Orion Cluster - We have been in orbit of Drake's Planet now for 72 hours following the discovery of a recent Magog incursion. The attack seems to be low level and random. We have dispatched a courier ship with our Findings Report to be presented to the Ambassador at the Antares Assembly. We do not expect any major consequences against the Treaty, however, our findings are bound to shake some people up. Vashti Colony was completely smashed and every human left alive was infested. What is puzzling about this attack is the fact that no Magog remained to guard their unhatched young.

Dr. Sans took our entire medical unit to experiment on egg extraction and removal. The quick incubation period of Magog young left only the narrowest window of opportunity. Unfortunately, no procedure was discovered. I have ordered Dr. Sans and staff back aboard and Lancer Lieutenant Harper is tending to the colonist's "release". This is the third such attack we have encountered in the past seven months and while the Treaty may ban an organized invasion, it does nothing to quell the atmosphere of fear our colonists have; and to be honest, I don't blame them.

We will be returning to Earth for debriefing and supply exchange. Vashti Colony no longer viable.

Note to the Directorate: Please address the issue of Magog attacks and advise next course of action."

Jason stood on the bridge of the Tigris Vanguard looking out at the planet they orbited. From here one would never know the horrors experienced below.

Thax came up to him, "Harper's back and all stations report ready."

Jason took a long look at the planet and turned around, "Tigris?"

A blond woman moved over to him from working on a rear computer panel, "Sir, the power levels are in a state of flux but the slipstream drive console will work...," she paused, "at least this once."

The Captain's eyes narrow slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Angling for that upgrade already are you?"

Tigris gave her best "give a girl a break" look before duty overtook the moment, "target locked."

Jason turned his gaze back to the planet. All soldier.

"Fire."

Several scatter bombs exited the ship quickly, and an area on the planet lit up as if hit by several meteors.

Tigris moved closer to watch the planet burn as well, "Vashti Colony has been vaporized."

"Take us home, Mr. Narkaul," called Jason watching the planet suddenly leave view as the starship suddenly arched away to the slipstream point and disappeared...

...only to appear among a handful of ships of Nietzchean design. They immediately started to open fire.

Sparks showered the bridge as the Tigris Vanguard was hit several times knocking some to their feet.

The klaxon automatically sounded over the shouts of surprise.

"BATTLE STATIONS! ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!" Tigris broadcasted throughout the ship.

"Evasive Nark! Now!" yelled Jason as the ship went into a steep dive, twisting and turning to avoid oncoming fire.

"Damage Report!" he snapped as people scrambled to their stations.

"Slipstream drive offline, hull breaches on two decks and 10 injuries. Emergency weapons hot and fighter crews will be ready in 3 minutes. Full defensive posture complete in 2 minutes."

"Do not launch fighters! Come about and charge the main guns." Ordered Jason as he punched buttons on his tactical console, "Thax, I am blind right now! Who the hell are they?"

His second in command pushed a button launching the sensor drones, "drones away! Aft guns charging!"

The ship looped around and started to make a charge head-on for the formation of 5 enemy ships. Jason gripped his station as enemy fire exploded all around him. "Careful Nark!" he warned, "our guns are hot!"

"You wanna drive?" Narkaul quipped through clenched teeth. A side panel near him exploded but he just shrugged the debris off.

More detailed tactical information was starting to come across Jason's board as the sensor drones started to go to work. Big, behemoth ships out there; weak centers of gravity. All size. Nietzchean.

The ships were closing at an incredible rate of speed.

"Fire forward guns there!" Jason commanded, targeting, and the Vanguard's bow spewed forth a fury at being caught by surprise, destroying three Nietzschean ships as they passed through their formation.

"Aft guns, Fire! Same location on both ships. Don't give them time to recover!" Thax ordered his gunners.

The crew moved like madmen to comply and the remaining ships broke apart.

"Emergency stop and turn us around, Nark. Andromeda signal fighters to launch."

The mighty warship slowed and suddenly whipped around to face any enemies trying to catch them from behind by surprise. Scores of fighter craft emerged and quickly formed a defensive perimeter around the Vanguard.

"Look the hell at that!" yelled Thax over Tigris' shipwide call, "MEDICAL UNITS REPORT TO THE BRIDGE."

Personnel turned, trying to gaze at what Thax found. Suddenly sensor probe data appeared on the main screen.

"Sensors read almost 90,000..no, correction..make that 95,000 bodies." Tigris informed.

"Troop transports, "muttered Jason.

"No wonder they were easy to take." Tigris commented.

Thax looked at this Captain, "And where there are troop transports..."

"...there are escort fighters." Finished the Captain 

He glanced around the bridge as damage control teams were clearing wreckage and medical personnel tended to his bridge crew.

"Nark, how's your hand?" inquired Jason as he moved to the Navigator's chair. Nark glanced down at the blood covering his hand and controls. "It looks worse than it really is Sir."

"Have someone check it out anyway." Then turning to Thax. "Have two probes advance to Earth. I want to find their escorts."

Thax nodded and moved the probes forward.

"This was no mere raid by the Nietzscheans, Sir. This was an invasion force." Tigris commented.

Jason looked at the ship's AI. Small and somewhat delicate looking, he knew her appearance was deceptive. She had been with the ship from the beginning and the Divine help anyone who tried to take that away. He had learned to trust her judgement.

"Do you realize what you are saying?" Thax asked. "You are talking about civil war! The Nietzscheans don't have the ships to take on the High Guard. It would be suicide and whoever heard of a Nietzschean committing suicide?"

"Tigris, do we have irrefutable evidence that these bodies in the debris are indeed Nietzschean?"

"Yes, Sir. It is possible that this is the effort of perhaps one rebel Pride and not a succession from the Commonwealth by the Nietzschean Union."

"Uh, Sirs?" Came a voice from a junior officer on the bridge. Jason, Tigris, and Thax turned to look at the young Than officer.

"Yes, Mr. Skarr-Tu-Re, you have something to add?" Jason inquired.

"I..I served with the Nietzscheans before," the computer continuing to translate his chirps and clicks, "One Pride would not extend itself without some kind of guarantee of an alliance with other Prides. And they certainly would not commit themselves to this kind of action without first consulting the Union Matriarchs."

"I thought as much," Jason replied. "Thank you, Skarr. Stick close, we may need your input again."

Tigris suddenly looked to the main view screen, "Sir, incoming signal from sensor probes."

On the scren came a vision of Earth no Commonwealth citizen has ever seen. An Earth under seige. Nietzschean warships unloading weapons of mass destruction at a planet refusing to give in. High Guard defending vessels dodged in and out of the atmosphere trying desperately to knock the invaders down. Newport Station was also taking heavy damage. And in the midst of the chaos, a Glorious Heritage Class vessel fought.

Jason didn't need to give the order to know that the Tigris increased speed. He looked at her transfixed on the screen as the mighty High Guard ship was engulfed in weapons fire, and yet amazingly remaining to answer in kind. However, it was only a matter of time. The numbers were just too much for the Commonwealth ship and the Captain of that ship probably realized this as his reserves began to empty. The ship set a collision course with the largest Nietzschean vessel and started to move.

Perhaps the Nietzscheans didn't think that humans would be that determined. Perhaps they didn't think that humans had it in them. Whatever the case, when the two ships met, the resulting explosion reduced the combatant's numbers and for a brief moment, halted the fighting. And still, amazingly, most of the High Guard ship remained, whatever crew alive, still manning their guns.

"Captain, we will be coming in range shortly."

Jason murmured, "They will be wondering where their troops are." He turned to his crew, "Shall we show them?"

***

****

10087 CY

Dylan noticed Trance walking down a corridor reading a flexi. The mystery surrounding her race as big as her positive attitude, he mused.

She saw him, "Hello Captain, feeling better?" she inquired innocently.

He stops, thinks a minute. "Trance, come with me."

She dutifully starts after him, running a little to keep up with his purposeful stride. Her face revealing a thousand questions all asking if she was in some sort of trouble.

"Tyr! Just the man I wanted to see," he called out to the Nietzschean heading their way.

Tyr slowed, suspiciously eyeing the Captain. His body poised in case of an attack.

From me? Thought Dylan.

"Tyr, how would you rate our onboard defense system?"

"Laughable, "came the quick reply. Too quick.

"Could you explain?" the Captain asked, showing puzzlement. He just went down a few notches in the Nietzschean's ongoing assessment, he wryly thought to himself.

"In the past months this ship has been taken, how many times?"

Before Dylan could reply, Tyr continued, "That a simple salvage crew took the ship is understandable. They were led by me. That Nietzscheans took the ship is also understandable. They were, after all, Nietzschean and again, led by me. THAT CHILDREN TOOK THE SHIP IS UNFORGIVABLY RIDICULOUS!" he shouted. Trance backed away.

Dylan felt himself go red. "That was.....embarrassing," he admitted, gesturing helplessly.

"It's a wonder your High Guard functioned as a coherent organization."

Dylan suddenly came up to his Nietzschean crew member and looked him in the eye.

"Careful, Captain." Tyr warned. Trance began to worry.

"I want you to think of every way, no matter how crazy or unlikely, to board this ship with a view to capture or destroying it. Then come up with a counter measure."

Tyr began to take the Captain's measure.

"I don't like to be embarrassed twice," Dylan confided.

"Something we have in common," Tyr said as he began to walk on. He stopped suddenly and turned around, "There are 143 ways."

"Really?" came Dylan's surprised reply. He sounded so unconvinced that Tyr had to stop again.

"I found 210 ways. Curious. Well, I won't keep you. Document the action and reaction and give it to Beka when you get a chance." The Captain continued to walk on, leaving a staring Nietzschean behind.

Trance glanced at Tyr, "Wow. 210 ways!" she exclaimed.

He started to growl and she ran quickly after Dylan.

"Are there really 210 ways to destroy the ship?" she asked catching up to him.

Dylan looked down at her and then grinned. "I was surprised to hear there were 143 ways myself."

"But..but.." she stammered.

"If I let Tyr off the hook at 143, he wouldn't have done anything. Now that I called his excellence into question he will move Heaven and Earth to find 211 ways and document it to prove his superiority."

Trance gave a little conspiratorial look (which, truth be told didn't fit). "Slick Captain. Very slick."

Dylan walked on to the infirmary basking in the praise. Yes, he was feeling pretty good with himself right now.

"Trance, you seem to have a very good aptitude for healing and medicine. Beka and Rommie have both commented on it. I have a special mission for you, if you don't mind?"

Trance's eyes widened, "A MISSION!!, "she squealed. Then after a pause, "eeerrr.. I mean, a mission?"

Dylan almost laughed at the failed attempt to contain her excitement.

"You know that many planets now have been subjected to diseases and plagues many of which, in my time, were wiped out. I would like you to research the most common sicknesses found in the major races and see if you can come up with a standard inoculation/vaccination. I would like something stronger to offer people, outside of the nanobots. Something we can leave with them. Andromeda's infirmary has full pharmaceutical manufacturing capabilities. Have Rommie help you and make use of them."

He paused, "Can I count on you?"

Her mouth opened a little and then her eyes lit up. "You betcha! I won't let you down, Sir!" she saluted.

Dylan looked very pleased, "Great! Then I won't keep you. Just do me a favor and let Beka know how your are doing. And Trance, Captain's Table at seventeen hundred hours."

"I'll be there, Sir." And off she went to the medical library, her tail whipping happily.

***

****

9785 CY 

A battle scarred and pitted Tigris Vanguard floated in deep space at station keeping. The past few months had seen some heavy fighting with the rebel Nietzschean forces. Acheron Delta had been a disaster and the 

Commonwealth's grand counter offensive ended before it began. Already, supplies and trade have slowed to nonexistence as people fear venturing into space amid the war. Hurting ships have been forced to hunt from planet to planet for needed parts and supplies. Those too hurt were caught in space and killed. This war was turning into "survival of the fittest"; something the Nietzscheans excelled at. 

With the Empress dead, Vanguard ships still in the Commonwealth found themselves forgotten in the power vacuum. Many times they found themselves operating outside the normal High Guard Hierarchy.

Not that it has made any difference in the war. But the ships of the High Guard fought valiantly on; including the Vanguards.

Another vessel came out of slipstream with the ease of born practice inherent with the founders of slipstream travel. It was gray and of a design few have seen outside of Tarn-Vedra. The Vedran 

Home Guard flagship, Promise of Celestial Light, came to a gliding stop beside the Tigris Vanguard. The smaller warship docked with the Home Guard vessel and welcomed the supplying of needed materials. A robed figure of high stature also went across to confer with the Tigris Vanguard's Captain.

During that meeting...

"Captain," informed the Commonwealth Arbiter," I have been instructed to inform you that we no longer have need of your vessel at Tarn-Vedra. The decision to return or not is up to you. However, I am to inform you that at the close of two days the option to return to Tarn-Vedra will no longer be open."

The Tigris Captain looked at the official very hard. "You built another one didn't you? Doesn't the Triumvirate realize that with Home Guard reinforcements, the High Guard has a chance to turn the tide? The offensive was lost but we have taken a huge chunk of the Nietzschean fleet with us. Admiral Stark right now is developing a strategy to carry the fight..."

"Captain, "interrupted the official softly, "the High Guard will not be victorious. There have just been too many ships lost. Even concentrated, the fleet..."

"So you launch the weapon? Is that the grand answer? In Commonwealth space? If you use it now, EVERY planet in the Commonwealth will feel betrayed! The Commonwealth WILL die, Arbiter! The Triumvirate is not stupid! They know this. They sit on their chairs away from the fighting and they feel they can just throw our efforts to the wind?" Jason asked shouting back.

"The Commonwealth strategy has been analyzed, Captain. Logistics say it. The depleted numbers of the High Guard say it. The dissolving of the Conclave says it. Even the outer worlds, Captain, say it."

"So let's go it alone, save our own skins and the universe be damned? Is that the Commonwealth motto now? Where are our high ideals if the weapon launches? Where is our great charter? Arbiter, what the hell are we fighting for?"

"Captain, let me read you some highlights of a report, if I may. It says, in part, 'Several outer systems have already begun to break up incomplete sections of the High Guard battlegroups through offers of wealth, security or power. The Nietzschean attacks have already split the Commonwealth in half and High Guard key installations are all but defenseless. Riots have broken out on many worlds forcing planetary bodies to act. The power of the planetary government has overtaken the power of the defunct Conclave (which has been dissolved by unanimous vote). There have been reports of planets making peace overtures to the Nietzschean forces while others outright surrender. The more powerful systems trying to force a neutral status.' Tell me Captain? Where is the hope in all this? Where is the Commonwealth in all this?"

"Arbiter, I am not saying our situation is not grim. But I am saying that the deployment of the weapon by Tarn-Vedra will kick the legs out of a fragile infrastructure. If the Nietzschean forces are destroyed, which is possible if we are lucky, then their advance WILL be halted. There will still be enough of the High Guard to ...."

"No!" shouted the Arbiter. "It's over, Captain! Even if every Nietzschean ship in their attack fleet were destroyed and we retain what High Guard ships we have, it will not matter."

Jason lowered his head.

The Arbiter's eyes softened, "Captain, the Succession War of the Vedran Empire lasted for 60 years. 60 years! We are in our 2nd year of war and already the Commonwealth is barely holding on. The entire fabric of our civilization couldn't have just unraveled in these two years. The Nietzschean rebellion is the effect of a Fall long in coming, not the cause. I have lived on Tarn-Vedra my entire life. I have seen it in the General Assembly, I have seen it from the Aristocratic Royalty, and I have even seen signs of it from the Triumvirate. Power division, caste divisions, status divisions, race divisions, and ideology divisions. Planets are in the Commonwealth but they are not part of it. They reap the benefits without sacrificing their pride, and that move has caused our civilization to fracture. In fact, the only organization free of the fragmentation at the start of the war was the High Guard. Do you realize that the High Guard is the oldest institution in existence? Older than the Commonwealth? And during all that time, its sense of purpose has never changed. The High Guard have been our shining light. Now, that light will be extinguished, with or without our help."

The Tigris Captain looked at the Arbiter and noted just how old he looked. He was there when the Empress was assassinated, barely escaping on the Eriani Vanguard. He glanced into those sad eyes and whispered, "What aren't you telling me?"

The Arbiter handed a flexi to Jason and stood up. "Captain, it has been a pleasure to know you. If you decide to head to Tarn-Vedra, please contact me. I would be most honored. If not, I wish you success and every hope."

Jason stood up with him and they shook hands.

When the Home Guard ship had vanished back into slipstream, Jason looked at the flexi.

"Damn." He whispered.

***

****

10087 CY

Dylan Hunt moved through the Engineering Section of the Andromeda. At least, he thought it was the Engineering Section. Pieces of wall paneling, circuits, and a plethora of flexi's littered the floor.

"Harper," he called.

"Be right with you, Chief." Called a voice. 

From the wall? Dylan walked toward an open panel to investigate. As he was going to put his head in the opening to call Harper's name again, a hand touched him from behind. Dylan jumped at the unexpected appearance of his Acting Engineer accidentally bumping his head on a top panel.

"Oops. Sorry, Captain. I guess I should announce my wonderful presence to my admiring fans before scaring the beejeezee's out of them, eh?" He quipped.

"Harper, what's with all this junk?" he commented.

"Better not let Rommie hear you say that. This here," he pointed to a stack of parts, "is going to help realign Andromeda's thrust ratio. I don't know if you've noticed, but the ship lists to Port a little making one thruster work harder. Or is that this pile here?... hmm." Harper trailed off.

Dylan looked at him incredulously, "If we were in trouble right now, would we have the ability to defend ourselves?"

Harper grinned, "Why? Is someone fighting nearby so we can interfere? Don't worry Captain, we will have power. I just would need to run to up one deck to reset the targeting computers."

"One deck?"

"Oh don't worry Captain, I clocked myself. I can get there in under 2.5 minutes."

"Harper, in 2 minutes we could be dead."

"Then my recommendation is to slowly interfere with other people."

Dylan ran his hand through is hair. "You need help," he concluded.

"You won't get an argument from Beka. She's been telling me that for a while."

"No, no," waved off the Captain, "I mean helpers. You need helpers in Engineering."

"Well, Captain, you know of a planet full of voluptuous women in need of someone to worship, who just happen to hold an A rating on a ship like this?" He inquired hopefully.

Dylan smiled cryptically, "Of sorts. Come with me."

The two men started to travel downward pausing at times, while Harper checked this or that. After descending several decks, Dylan stopped in front of a large door. 

"I haven't explored this part yet. What's behind door #1? The lady or the tiger?"

The Captain punched in a code and the door slid open. "Your subjects," he dramatically announced, "in the Kingdom of Harper." 

Rows upon rows of different metallic shapes sat on shelves grouped by a particular service performed.

Everything was glistening as if polished the day before.

Harper stared, "Holy Mother of Magog! What are these? Little robots?" He quickly started walking down several rows. "There must be thousands of these things?"

Dylan grinned, "We called them Servicebots. Divided into sections designed to maintain a certain part or function of Andromeda."

"Harper's Children, oh yes, that's what they are. But... if we had these here all this time, why are you only telling me now?"

Now it was the Captain's turn to look uncomfortable. "Harper, these Servicebots were designed to operate the ship with a minimum compliment. They could all be controlled from one station and only by the Chief Engineer."

Harper looked at the Captain. "You didn't trust me, did you?"

Dylan looked the young man in the eye. "Harper, there are only two people who really feel extremely possessive of a ship like this. The Captain, and the Chief Engineer. I needed to watch you before turning her over to someone who would go the distance as much as I would."

"So you trust me then?" he asked, scratching his head

"You are no longer Acting Chief Engineer, Harper. Welcome aboard, Chief!"

Harper grinned, "I like the sound of that. Oh yeah, I can get used to being called that. Chief Harper. Has a nice kind of ring to it, don't you thing?"

"Like it was meant for you." Dylan put his hand on Harper's shoulder, "I am also trusting you to take care of yourself. If you are running yourself to the ground, you won't be worth anything to the ship. Understood?"

It was then that Harper realized that he had circles under his eyes. Dylan was amused as he saw the conflict in the young man at wanting to explore the room of little gadgets and mechanical helpers and realizing that the responsible thing would be to get some rest.

"I guess I have been working too long." He sighed. 

Dylan walked with him, patting him on the back. "Now that's the spirit of the true High Guard! I want you to document your progress and let Beka know how close you are to having that fully automated empire of yours active, ok?" 

When Harper nodded, Dylan asked, "Have you checked out the archive from the SCRAM we recovered?"

"No, not yet. You want me too?"

"Only if you want to. Don't forget at seventeen hundred hours, Captain's Table."

"Yes, Sir." Replied Harper and off he went to his quarters. 

"Now what name should I have them call me? Seamus the Great? How about "Harper, the Devoted Father to his Worshipful Children"? Hmm.. Sounds vaguely Commonwealthy." 

***

****

9786 CY

Letter to Admiral Stark, Commanding High Guard Defense Fleet - 

__

"I bring greetings from myself and my crew, Sir. I am sending this courier ship to you informing you that, unfortunately, our vessel will not be able to participate in your operation against Nietzschean forces. This decision, though painful, must be made for the greater good of the Commonwealth. Attached to the courier is information given to me by Commonwealth Intelligence several months ago. 

As you will note, two remote stars in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud are serving as a gathering place for Magog ships. We believe these two systems to be staging areas for an impending Magog attack. We say this because of a finding at the former Vashti Colony in the Orion Cluster. We were puzzled to the Magog's abandonment of their unhatched young found there. Further analysis, though, of Dr. Sans findings have revealed that these young Magog's genes were contaminated with a type of radiation found in only a few select stars. The two systems in question contain such stars. This information, we felt, needed to be investigated firsthand and confirmed before any changes in strategy can be entertained.

Sir, we have confirmed it by sensor probe! Staging area A (our designation) was found to have over one million Magog vessels. Staging area B, close to a hundred thousand. I am sure that you will agree, no matter the outcome of your current operation; no matter who wins and who loses, when the Magog strike, nothing will survive.

I believe Tarn-Vedra realized this and concluded that the Commonwealth was no longer viable. As you are no doubt aware, the Vedran system is no longer within the slipstream. Nothing has been more damaging to our cause than this. The Commonwealth, now, seems so hollow. An empty shell of what it once was.

Admiral, our plan is to engage the Magog gathering before they have a chance to launch. We have a weapon I am sure you remember from our meeting several years ago on Tarn-Vedra. This is the kind of situation it was designed for, preventative. The nature of this weapon, though, limits us to hitting only one staging area and therefore we have chosen the largest. Our Lancer Brigade, headed by Lieutenant Harper will be detached to Earth for defense when the smaller group begins their invasion. With some prayers and luck, they will be able to hold.

We will succeed. We must! Our systems should be able to fight off the smaller staging area according to the data collected. Perhaps, they will hit Nietzschean strongholds first (should we be so lucky).

We wish your fleet every hope in your engagement and it would be my pleasure to have you dine with my officers and I when we meet again. Good hunting.

****

Jason Nathaniel - Tigris Vanguard 

XRS-9550-V

***

****

10087 CY

The bridge of the Andromeda Ascendant was all but empty. The mighty vessel orbiting a planet comprised of mostly water. The planet hung like a blue jewel against the dark backdrop of space.

"It's nice to see that some things don't change no matter how much time passes." Dylan called to a startled Beka Valantine, sitting in the Pilot's chair.

He smiled inside as he saw her frown. He had interrupted her reverie and knew she could not think of a way, at the moment, to get him to leave.

"You want a report or something Dylan?" she asked, a little irritated.

"No, no. Don't mind me. I just need to check something here." He said as he walked to his terminal and started punching buttons.

Beep

Beep

She turned to look at him, then turned away.

Beep 

Beep

He seemed very engrossed with whatever was on his terminal. He punched some more buttons.

Beep beep beep

She turned around again. "Can I ask you something?"

Dylan stopped on the console and looked up at her. "What's on your mind?"

Beka paused, as if unsure of how to proceed. "Your friend, the woman Captain...in the past?"

"Gar?"

"Yes. I was wondering. What kind of person was she?"

Dylan smiled, remembering. "Gar was a straight arrow. Came from a respectable High Guard family. You could say it was in their blood to command; always proper and organized. She would chide me for not running a tighter ship." He chuckled at the memory.

Beka smiled and nodded. 

Dylan wouldn't let it stop there, though. "I remember one time hearing about her ship being caught on a training mission in the middle of a Magog landing. There was one trainee left down on the planet and the place was filling up fast with Magog. She went out after him and brought him back. She held an honorary title in his family after that since he was Than. Some of us would call her "Than Lady". She would just smile and walk on."

He suddenly looked at her, "Why do you ask?"

Beka stared at her hand, outlining the drive controls on the Pilot's chair. She was deciding if she should tell him or not. 

"When I first met you I thought you were such an arrogant pain. Naïve as they come and a typical male. Every time I heard you speak of the High Guard, I would feel the same scorn."

She paused, looking for the reaction...the fight. None came. 

"Then, I briefly saw your friend. Different and yet you both were friends. You trusted each other implicitly and...and...I felt saddened when she died."

Dylan waited. 

"So my opinion of the High Guard changed. Then I saw the account from the artifact we picked up. A male Captain, and yet, I again felt saddened at what they went through. I don't know... I guess I was envious of the camaraderie, the world that you shared with them. This isn't easy to admit but I guess I started to take it out on you. I know I am not High Guard, but I felt..."

Dylan walked over to her and faced her. "Beka?" 

She looked up at him. "Yeah?" He saw the hard edges smooth and a vulnerability that he knew was rarely shown.

"You would have made a hell of a High Guard Captain."

She looked up at him, searching for a taunt, a joke, or a condescending look but found only sincerity.

He let out a sigh and continued, "I too was prejudice in my thinking towards you. I thought that you were all motivated by self- gratification. That all of you could not wait for me to fail so you could get back to your lives, sell the ship or I don't know," he waved absently. 

"I felt like an outsider never really being able to get in. And, I resented that. All I could think about was what I wanted and so I pushed. In the end, as it turns out, I was the one who was motivated by selfishness."

They stared at each other, sharing volumes.

Then Dylan's eyes narrowed, and a grin broke. "A naïve, typical male?"

Beka Valentine laughed and came back, "as if you've never thought such things about me?"

"Actually," started Dylan in his best mock-indignant voice he could muster, "I recently compared you to the Empress."

An eyebrow raised and she changed the subject. "What's that?" she asked, noting a flexi in his hand.

"I gave some people assignments and informed them to report to you. I was just going to ask if you mind?"

She took the flexi and glanced at it. "You got Tyr to do that?" she asked, clearly impressed.

"There's hope for you after all."

Dylan grinned, "I would like to invite you to the Captain's Table at seventeen hundred hours. Just something special I am getting up for the crew."

"I wouldn't miss it for ..for.. the Commonwealth." 

Then she looked at him again and as he turned to leave, asked, "Did you really compare me to the Empress?"

Dylan, innocently, "Of course. You both are very much alike."

"Hmmm.." she thought, the idea piquing her interest.

"I believe Captain Nathaniel once called her, 'Ice Queen Bitc...OW!...Cast Iron...OW!'"

The Andromeda's Captain slowly rubbed his shoulder after his Second in Command took the liberty of punching him. Twice.

But he saw before she walked off, the smile in her eyes.

Today was a good day, he had to admit.

"Andromeda?" he called.

"Captain?" the hologram appeared on the bridge.

"I would like us positioned in a slow orbit and rig for silent running. I want some time with the crew undisturbed."

"Aye, Captain. Silent Running engaged."

***

****

9786 CY

The Tigris Vanguard shifted and turned with the many changing energy patterns making up the slipstream. They didn't have the time they needed to bring all Tigris' systems back to full capacity, which made for a very bumpy ride.

There was a sudden shudder on the Command Deck as Jason's hand gripped his console. He turned to see Thax enter the bridge holding onto a rail.

"Did we hit something?" he asked coming next to his Captain.

"Our good sense," came a voice from the pilot's chair. The Captain glanced at Narkoul shifting and turning the controls of the ship as he struggled with the slipstream. "Damn, son of a..." the Pilot muttered.

The ship shuddered again. "Dammit, Tigris, our people are getting thrown around below deck."

A panel suddenly went dark in front of the blonde woman. A panel she was hard at work on. She cursed and hit it with her hand as the ship suddenly started to vibrate. The panel came back on. "That last Nietzschean battle hurt our dampeners...bad..."

"Two minutes!" came a voice from the other side of the bridge.

Jason felt the tension rise a little higher. They were about to face more Magog than anyone had a right too.

Tigris came up beside him, holding onto his arm for support. "We are as ready as we will ever be," she said, her free hand brushing her hair back.

"That reminds me," started the Captain as he reached into his uniform jacket. "Here," he handed a small circular object to her.

"What's this?" she inquired, looking down, and then her eyes widened. "That upgrade module for the slipstream console!"

In spite of himself, he grinned like a kid. It felt good. "I bargained one out of a Newport Engineer when we dropped the Lancers off. I had been meaning to give it to you."

She looked back up at him, "..and on the eve of a magnificent victory...how romantic. What girl wouldn't like this?" she softly teased.

"I like the way you think," Jason started when a voice intruded.

"Ten seconds!"

Everyone braced.

"Ready all weapons but do not initiate hostilities. We will need to reach a certain position!"

"Slipstream Event Horizon!" shouted Nark...and the Tigris Vanguard emerged in system.

"Thax, launch sensor drones, but keep them close."

"My God!" came a voice from an officer.

Jason could hardly disagree when he stared at the main screen.

Tigris whispered, "I know what the report said, but seeing them here..." her voice trailed off.

"They look like flying pancakes," Nark growled.

"Data coming in now captain. Sensors read about 1.3 million ships. They...they seem to be ignoring us."

Jason looked at his First Officer, "I wonder why?"

Tigris interrupted, "There is no type of weapon energy buildup registering."

Nark grunted, "so these buggers are not armed?"

Thax frowned, "But look at them. They're huge! How can they not be armed?"

Jason stared at the screen, his sixth sense starting to tingle. "This is stupid," he muttered. "We have a job to do people. Let's get it done and get the hell to a safe distance!"

The crew jumped to action and the Tigris increased power, directly heading for the sun. It was hard not to watch the gargantuan ships as Tigris passed the outer perimeter. They seemed to be simply floating in their planetary orbit around the sun, inactive. They passed ships that could swallow the Tigris whole.

"This is as far as our calculations allow us to proceed, Captain." Nark called as he started to spin the ship around to avoid running into an inner perimeter of Magog ships.

"Launch the remote fighter!" Jason ordered.

A small fighter emerged from the Tigris Vanguard and proceeded toward the sun, penetrating the inner line, unmolested.

"Nark, I want you to take us to this point," he indicated on the tactical screen. "Tigris, ready the weapon."

"Sir!" came a junior officer. "I am picking up movement in the Magog fleet!"

Jason, Tigris and Thax looked at the sensor readings for any kind of confirmation.

"It's a scout Captain." Thax called.

Jason turned to give and order when his Second in Command called again, "He's seen us!" Thax's voice jumped a few notches higher. "The fleet is moving!"

"Get us there now, Nark! Tigris, let's see what they are doing."

The Tigris Vanguard pulled away from the inner perimeter of ships and the screen changed to reveal their departure angle.

It seemed like the tops and bottoms of the ships were starting to separate. But they only lifted and dropped so much. As the Magog line receded, hundreds of little black dots appeared to emerge.

Tigris turned sharply to Jason. "Carriers!"

"Have they spotted the remote?"

Thax checked his instruments, "doesn't look like it, Sir. We seem to be the main cheese."

"Approaching outer perimeter again. No movement...wait...they are starting!"

"Increase speed, Nark! Fly us apart if you have too!"

The ship shuddered again. Space suddenly became a very crowded place as tiny ships departed the outer perimeter in an attempt to trap the High Guard ship between two waves of Magog fighters.

"Each of those flying pancakes must carry a swarm! Damn, how many Magog can you cram into those things?" Thax asked checking readouts.

Tigris whirled around, "Sir, the remote is on station! Launch?"

Jason looked at his pilot, "Nark?"

"30 seconds..."

Jason nodded to Tigris and ordered the proximity guns to fire when the Magog ships got in range. "Cover out butts, Thax." He warned.

The Tigris fired, her missiles exploding at strategic points vaporizing the tiny attackers instantly. But they kept coming. They had the numbers.

"Now!" Nark shouted.

Jason turned to Tigris, "Launch! Thax? Activate the weapon!"

Tigris signalled the remote fighter and out came her only Nova bomb. The remote was instantly recalled but the crew knew better. That was the one piece of machinery that was expendable.

Thax was instantly at a weapon station that seemed out of place on the bridge. He punched ni the code and the weapon activated. Jason grimmaced. Once activated, it could not be stopped.

The ship started to rock as Magog weapons zeroed in on their position. They were coming ever closer.

Supernova!

The sun instantly contracted for a brief moment before exploding. The rippling effects of the gravity starting to be picked up by the inner perimeter of stationary Magog carriers. The shockwave would be upon them in minutes.

"The outer line is powering up!"

"Remote fighter lost!"

As the weapon's program initiated, spikes started to protrude from the Tigris' bow and aft. As the weapon tapped their slipstream drive, energy began to dance back and forth between the spikes, destroying nearby Magog fighters.

The massive amounts of energy created sent a bolt through the Tigris causing several computer stations to explode. A young lieutenant was thrown across the bridge, killing him instantly.

"Damage Control, act!" Jason shouted over the sparks that continued to fly from the damaged stations.

He turned to see Tigris lying on the floor, passed out. "Oh, no!" He moved quickly to her side. "That power surge must have damaged the interface!" he called kneeling over her.

"Captain!" Nark called out.

Jason stood up, reluctantly leaving the fallen avatar to watch the screen. The energy ripples started to create an opening, one through which slipstream energy began to flow.

"Inner Magog line incinerated! Outer perimeter starting to make slipstream positions!"

"No!" shouted Jason. "You will not escape!" he shouted to the ships attempting to flee.

"Supernova wave right behind us!!"

Slipstream energy and the weapon's energy played against each other until they merged. A surge of incredible power shot through the spikes and into the slipstream drive creating and immense wave, with the Tigris as it's eye.

~threshold~

The Tigris Vanguard shot away from the nova front skipping between slipstream and normal space. The terminals of the Tigris had gone dark with that last power surge, the crew never witnessing the many points in the system opening. Points where slipstream energy started to flooded through. The Magog fleet tried to exit but were skipped about the system most caught by the nova front.

Soon the slipstream energy began to dissipate and the hundreds of openings the weapon created began to close.

***

****

10087 CY

Dylan and Rommie were working hard behind the counter in the galley. Dylan's hands were covered in some sort of white powdery substance while Rommie's nose and hair advertised splotches of the same.

"Rommie, what about Rev Bem? Have you observed him enough to know what his favorite dish is?"

Rommie looked at Dylan with a wounded expression. "Of course. Just because his race eats sentient beings, including humans, is no reason to assume that you taste good. I talked to him this afternoon about what it would be nice to have in our stores. His culinary taste might just surprise you."

"I don't doubt it. But our lack of variety onboard is shocking Rommie. Just shocking," he fussed.

"...variety being the spice of life?" she inquired.

"You got it. Speaking of spices...," Dylan started to rummage through the system for an appropriate approximation of what he wanted, his powdery hands leaving white little fingerprints all over the console.

"What's burning?" asked Beka as she walked into the room.

"That, my dear Beka, is what food should smell like. Not manufactured, not fabricated but cooked."

Beka Valentine looked at him with a bemused expression. "I didn't know you cooked?"

Rommie, after putting a dish in some sort of heating unit, stood up straightening her clothes and said, "He can't. We are currently on attempt number four for Harper's dish."

Dylan tossed Beka a clear piece of plastic covering over the counter. "Want to put your talents for improvising to the ultimate test?"

Beka grinned, "I never back away from a challenge." And joined them.

***

****

9786 CY

The first thing Jason became aware of was a sharp pain in his right arm.

"Hold still, Captain," a voice called as he tried to sit up. "Your arm is broken and you have a slight concussion."

"How long have I been out?" he asked opening his eyes. Whoa. Headache city.

"Twelve hours, Sir."

"What happened?"

The young man tending him started to check the sling put around Jason's arm. "Well, as near as we can tell, once the weapon was activated, the Tigris went into 'lockdown mode'. All the ports, windows, docking bays and vents were covered over by the Tigris' armor. We don't know if the Tigris did it intentionally or if the weapon itself activated it. Either way, that's what saved us."

"So we are blind?"

"..as a bat. Hold still," as he used some sort of medical gadget. "Commander Soccour had the crews working on life support. Feeling better?"

Jason nodded so the medic continued, "He and Dr. Sans are working on the last patient right now."

"Give me a hand," Jason grunted as he stood up. God, this ship is a mess, he thought, looking at the flickering computer screens and wiring all over the place. Debris littered the floors.

He went to into the critical infirmary and facing Thax's back, he reached out and put his hand on the Commander's shoulder.

"Captain!" 

"Whoa. Watch it Commander, broken wing." He smiled.

As he leaned into the room, his smile faded. "She hasn't come back?"

Thax sighed, "No. Dr. Sans thinks that the weapon activation cut off her interface on the Command Deck. He didn't find any damage to the ship's cerebellum."

"Well, those things were built sturdier than the entire ship put together."

"I sent Skarr to manually check the interface linkages throughout the deck, including the interface mainframe itself. It's been tough with all the damage."

Jason looked at Thax, "how many did we lose?"

The Commander stared back at him. "197." 

Jason closed his eyes.

"Skarr-Tu-Re to Commander" broke in a voice over the portable communications device Thax held.

"Go ahead, Skarr."

"I had to physically detach a connection rod that was installed by whoever put this weapon in. It looked like it's purpose was to block the ships' AI from connecting to it's avatar. The interface flow should be active."

"Excellent work, Skarr." Jason broke in.

"Welcome back Captain. This only took me ten hours."

The Captain grinned. "We've got to promote that bug."

They began to crowd around the ship's avatar lying on the bed as her legs started to slowly move.

"Tigris?" Jason called softly.

Her eyelids fluttered briefly and then they opened. She looked around and oriented herself on Jason. She was not smiling.

"Nova" she whispered.

Jason's eyes widened.

"Ah, damn," he muttered

A low powered klaxon sounded sending the crew to secure something...anything.

Two hours later, the nova wave hit.

*

****

Captain's Personal Account - 

__

"The ship has drifted for days, slowly tumbling, slowly spinning. Even now I am amazed how the crew sucked it up and are continuing repairs. No captain could ask for a better crew and no captain was ever prouder. The almost entirely dissipated nova wave still had enough strength to toss us around like a child's toy. Computers are inoperable, internal communications are out, and even interior lights are offline on all but the lower decks. Most of the crew have been issued personal lamps and I must admit, the ship seems more ominous being so dark. Our gravity plates have ruptured as well sending us all back to our "Zero-G" training.

Tigris informs us that the ships power generators and engines are working, that there is something to tap into. With low power on the lower decks and the interface still working there is hope. So we push on in our repairs. All wounded have been moved to those decks with power to stay warm. It has become a race to tap the power or freeze to death trying.

As a crew member with a broken arm, about the only thing I am accomplishing with any real success is annoying the hell out everybody. Thax had me escorted back to my quarters, banishing me from the Command Deck (I will get him for this). I am surprised, though, at how hard it is to navigate a ship without gravity with the use of only one arm.

The work has been good. We have all been separated from our families, our friends, and our homes. The work seems to drown out the ever consuming question that pervades our minds: Is there something to go back to?

Jason switched his personal light off and sent the flexi into a respectable drift around the room as he tried to relax. Lack of gravity really makes that hard, he thought. And his right arm itched. He simply drifted there in total darkness.

"Captain?" called a familiar voice from somewhere outside his room.

Tigris glided through the half open door, navigating herself through floating debris by means of her personal lamp. The beam suddenly hit him in the face and he squinted his eyes.

It was hard to get a good look at her, but it was surprising to him to find how presentable she looked, though spending hours in the ship's machinery working. Just how did she manage that? His mind drifted.

"There's something I need to tell you, Captain," she started as she drifted over to him.

He could sense her hesitation but patiently waited for her to continue.

"I...," she stopped and different possible lines went through his mind trying to anticipate what she would say. "Well, you may need to lie down for this." She floated over on top of him and gently pushed him down toward his bed. God, she is beautiful. Then he felt awkward. 

"Tigris, look. If..." he started.

"Shhh...." She whispered putting a finger to his lips. His back hit the mattress with her on top.

"Captain," she started again, pinning him down to his bed. Her head lowered, mouth inches from his ear. He thought he smelled a light fragrance but it could have been his imagination. It was, after all, dark. Her breath was warm against his neck. 

"Emergency power has been restored." She whispered.

Wha?? Before he could even utter a sound, he felt himself being pulled down by invisible forces. The interior lights in his room suddenly flickered on and he saw a grinning, blonde woman sitting on top of him.

"Gravity restored..." he mumbled dumbly.

She got up quickly and went to the door. 

He found his voice, "why...why...you...tease!" he sputtered indignantly, or embarrassed.

She looked at him, batting her eyelashes, "Why Captain, you didn't expect to get lucky now did you?"

"Well," he said fussily, starting to sit up, "that has been the ongoing theme of the day."

Then he started to chuckle. "I have to admit, you had my going..."

He was so intent on what he was saying that he didn't see her push a button sliding his door shut. By mid-sentence she had walked over and kissed him.

***

****

10087 CY (17:00:00)

Captain Dylan Hunt sat with his crew of the Andromeda Ascendant at the head of The Captain's Table. The Captain's Table usually referred to the Officer's Deck used for entertaining planetary dignitaries or Vedran Royalty. The Empress herself traveled on this deck at one time. Everything was brought to a shining luster on this deck, designed to impress and awe. Now it was just an empty deck on the undermanned starship. It was about time it was used.

The crew was seated, enjoying the efforts of Dylan, Rommie and Beka. Truth be told, the dishes really didn't taste like they had remembered, but they did not mind. Tyr, however, had to be convinced that Dylan didn't make his favorite dish in an elaborate scheme to poison him. The Captain had been forced to take a mouthful of the Nietzschean dish. He never could stomach Nietzschean food but he performed the tasting service admirably. When Dylan didn't fall down dead, all Tyr could say was "pity, it would have been a laudable attempt" and started eating.

Trance turned to Tyr and asked a little too loudly, "So, have you beaten the Captain yet?"

Dylan looked up amused. Beka and Harper, who had been discussing the servicebots, looked at Tyr.

Tyr's deep voice rumbled, "There are 210 ways to penetrate the ship with a view to capture or destruction. Dylan had the advantage of knowing about the little engineering robots." He eyed the Captain, appreciatively, "Very good."

"Hey, hey, hey," Harper interrupted, "leave my 'bots' out of your plans ok?"

Beka laughed, "Afraid your 'children' will prefer the Nietzschean way of thinking?"

"Only if they wish to survive and propagate." Rev Bem waxed philosophically.

"Well spoken, Magog!" Tyr commented, taking a drink.

"Noone's going to propagate the servicebots without me!" Rommie called out, shocked at their audacity to tamper with her equipment.

Harper grinned, "I'd like to see that...OW!" Trance kicked him under the table.

Dylan and Beka were grinning.

Tyr took to the challenge and turned to Rommie, "and which robot would you honor with the title, 'Husband and Father'?"

Rommie looked confused and several couldn't contain it anymore. Laughter broke out.

"Pride Andromeda. It has a ring to it, no?" Beka laughed.

Dylan raised his glass, "To the first Pride of the High Guard!"

"Pride Andromeda!" the others called out. Rommie frowned.

Then, Dylan grew serious and raised his glass again. "To the Tigris Vanguard."

"Tigris Vanguard," the others called in a subdued voice.

"Your spectre of the Commonwealth," Tye called. "Tell me, Dylan, what is to prevent the same outcome this time around?"

Dylan smiled, "Amazingly, Tyr. This!" his gesture encompassing the table.

"Dinner?" Trance asked, confused.

"Unity." Rev finished.

"Rev is right." The Captain started. He looked out at his crew and sighed, "the Commonwealth was taken for granted. The politics of the time being, "the Commonwealth made the person". The impression this left was that noone had to change! Old divisions, old feuds, old fears and hatreds could be glossed over with the title. The only reason it lasted as long as it did was the High Guard. While lip service to the Commonwealth ideology was prevalent among the citizenry, the High Guard enforced it among its members. There was no place among its ranks for divisions, feuds or hatreds."

"But, Dylan," broke in Beka, "I hate to point it out, but the High Guard fell."

Dylan smiled a sad smile. "Yes, it did. There is an old saying, 'High Guard supreme, Commonwealth forever'. As it turns out, this is not just a saying but an equation. One that was forgotten. I didn't realize this back then. We took it all for granted. At the time of the Nietzschean rebellion the Commonwealth totaled a million worlds. Just before the rebellion, the High Guard was split with the separation of the Home Guard. It was further fractured with the creation of the Vanguard."

Tyr completed the picture, "The citizenry overtook their protectors and without the High Guard's guiding strength of purpose, your infrastructure crumbled."

"...and then Brandenburg Tor," Rev Bem added.

"The Empress, Admiral Stark, Jason Nathaniel and Arbiter Archon did the best they could in their fractured states, but without the unity, the Commonwealth fell."

Dylan looked at each one of his crew and shifted his mood. "But we are going to change that! The Commonwealth will again be created on unity, on its founding ideology." He paused. "In fact, based on that, I would say that the Commonwealth already exists!"

"What? Where?" Harper asked dubiously.

"Right here, on this ship! This ship of the High Guard."

"How do you figure that?" Beka asked.

Dylan gave a mischievous grin, "We haven't killed each other."

"Yet!" both Beka and Tyr finish.

"Oh yea of little faith," Dylan laughed and threw out a rhetorical question. "A life in anarchy or a life in the Commonwealth. What's in your best interests?"

He continued, "Three hundred years of barbarism doesn't completely erase almost ten millenia of Commonwealth. The people will remember what they had and they have lost. They will gladly choose the Commonwealth, their only avenue of peace and security if given the chance."

Tyr looked skeptical. Beka put it into words, "But Dylan, some people out there don't want it."

Dylan looked to his Second in Command, "I am betting that those who do want to choose the Commonwealth outnumber those who don't. Let's give them that chance and find out."

As the crew contemplated his words, he suddenly asked, "Anyone for desert?"

***

__

"...have met a space faring race from the next system. They were instrumental in helping replenish our stores and clearing our wreckage away. The ship is far from a full restoration but we are getting there. The people of this race were starting to experience Magog raids. Given the proximity of their fleet, I can't say I was surprised. They hailed us as heroes in vanquishing their foes. We have examined their technology and culture and concluded that if we hadn't come along, they would have been destroyed. It gives the crew some consolation as we get to know these people better. With their help, we have been able to determine that these two systems are no longer within the slipstream network. The full range of the weapon is, as of yet, unknown. We thank the Divine that this race's science is advancing along other fields. In fact, they laughed at our Slipstream Technology. We have decided to launch our SCRAM unit and the race has been generous in their offer to take it to the edge of their known space to release it. Our ship's AI has elected not to be stored for posterity within the SCRAM, a decision that comes as no small relief to me personally. Our logs, our knowledge and our crews' personal notes we leave to the care of our benefactors. 

The crew is divided as how to proceed and I am not going to push them. They have earned the right to a voice regarding their future. A young ensign came to me and asked if the Commonwealth still stood. I called up information on her home planet and began to say that it had a good chance of defending itself. She interrupted me and asked again about the Commonwealth. And then it hit me. How "off" our thinking had been skewed. I looked into her searching eyes. Eyes that looked for hope. Eyes that looked for enlightenment. 'As long as the High Guard stands, so stands the Commonwealth,' was my reply. 'Does the High Guard still stand?' 'Ensign, as long as this crew remains united, the High Guard stands.' The answer seemed to satisfy her. I sat there in my cabin thinking of our lives spent in the service of the Commonwealth; and you know what? I don't regret it.

To the Captain who finds this: We are the Keepers of the Commonwealth. We are the guardians, the warriors, the teachers and the explorers. We are the High Guard. As long as one ship survives...as long as one crew continues on, the Commonwealth lives. Good hunting Captain. "High Guard supreme, Commonwealth forever".

****

Captain Jason Nathaniel

Tigris Vanguard

9786 CY

***

****

10087 CY

Dinner was winding down and everyone was content. Since desert was of her making, Rommie was elected to present it. Dylan, Beka, Harper, Trance and even Tyr were trying Rommie's creations, made specifically for each one of them. 

Rev Bem gave a knowing smile at Rommie. "I do not mind not having a desert. Ikari beetles are hard to come by in this part of space." He gave a knowing laugh.

Rommie raised her eyebrow while setting cherries down for Harper. "On the contrary Rev, I believe you will be most pleased."

Dylan looked impressed, "Rommie, now where did you scrounge up...what were they Rev?"

"Ikari beetles. And I am surprised as well, since they are very rare." He looked at Rommie retreating to the galley.

She came back with a deep bowl covered with a cloth. "Ikari beetles, yes. We would be hard pressed to find them. However, Dylan encouraged us to improvise."

"This doesn't bode well," Dylan commented.

"Hush! You are just mad you didn't think of it," she scolded him. She set the bowl down in front of Rev. "I took the liberty of checking the ship's database regarding the composition of the Ikari beetle; molecular structure and chemistry. I found a close match in something else, which I found by accident in the cargo bay."

"Something else?" Beka commented.

"..as in another bug?" Harper added.

"another bug?" Dylan mimed.

"I don't know..." Rev said skeptically. He took the cloth away to reveal tiny spherical objects one inch in diameter. The object's covering was of a hard substance though amazingly light.

"What are they called?" Rev asked holding one in his hand.

Rommie thought a minute. "I believe the computer called them Yama beetles."

Trance choked on her water, "Yama bugs?" she got out.

Rev, holding the sphere in his hand, looked quickly to Trance, "Why? What's wrong? Are they poisonous?" 

Rommie's voice drowned out Trance's response. "They are NOT poisonous. They are biologically similar to the Ikari beetle and so will taste similar."

Now it was Dylan's turn to choke, "...taste similar?…because they are biologically similar?" he managed.

"Are they cooked?" Rev asked, still dubiously, "they feel cool."

"Of course they are cooked. I stuck them in the heating unit for at least an hour."

"Ah, well... I suppose I shall have too...erp!" Rev Bem suddenly jerked backward and fell on his back.

"Rev!" shouted Trance. 

"It shot me!" Rev said surprised. He stood up, revealing that he had been sprayed by some sort of blue liquid.

The crew looked to the bug on the floor. They stared in horror as the top half of the object extended and split revealing two sets of winges. Suddenly feet appeared and the bug started to crawl around.

"That thing is still alive!" cried Harper.

"Pipe down!" yelled Beka to the Engineer.

__

(author's note: the Yama bug is one of the most benign creatures in the universe. They also are known to have one of the hardest substances in existence as a shell. This fact and their ability to close themselves up into a tight sphere allows them to withstand the vacuum of space or the extreme temperatures of a cooker. Loud noises seem to excite them so when frightened the Yama bug shoots its attacker with a blue solution from its behind. No one really knows where they come from or what their purpose is, but one can always tell when another has encountered them. The solution takes days to remove.)

The bug took flight and the crew scrambled out of their chairs. Noone thought to check the bowl until it was too late.

"They're all alive!" screamed Trance as a bug got caught in her hair. 

"Rommie lockdown the doors! I don't want these things getting into the ship!" shouted Dylan as he grabbed a pan off of the counter. What was left of its contents went flying in Harper's direction. The screams set the scared bugs off as they began to shoot blue liquid everywhere while taking flight.

Tyr magnificently leaped over the table and took a chair sweeping the air with it. 

Rev was knocked into the table which sent all the dishes on it flying and right into Beka. 

Dylan wacked a flying bug across the room but not before the tiny creature got off a lucky shot to his cheek. 

Rommie grabbed a bug out of the air and hurled it into the cooker where it began to close up. Three others cowardly shot her in the back. 

Five bugs got caught in Rev's fur, which sent him howling in fright shouting, labeling them as the ninth enemy of the Divine. 

Beka used the tablecloth to wrap it around a group of bugs trying to escape and rushed them over to the cooker. 

Harper ran to Trance, who was screaming something incoherent, and pulled the bug out of her hair. Unfortunately, he pulled her hair in the process causing her to yelp in pain and turn around and slap him. 

Dylan and Tyr stood back to back, each with their weapon of choice knocking the bugs to the floor for Beka and Rommie. 

"Would this make 211?" Dylan shouted over the commotion to Tyr.

"If these 'Yama bugs' take the ship, we should be lined up and shot!" He shouted back, grabbing one out of the air and throwing it.

"OW! Tyr!," shouted Beka. "Those damn things hurt!"

Dylan turned to the Nietzschean. "I won't tell if you won't."

Tyr turned to Dylan, and after a split second, "Agreed!"

"Not that anyone would believe this anyway." Dylan grunted, striking out. 

***

****

10087 CY (21:00:00)

The valiant crew of the mighty High Guard ship Andromeda Ascendant walked the gangway to the secondary airlock side by side. The scars of the recent battle evident on their person. Stained Blue, covered with pieces of food and desert, and disheveled clothing, the crew made their way to the door. Upon opening it, in went a bag of moving critters...and without ceremony, they were shot out into space.

They had performed magnificently as a crew, united of purpose. They had come to the aid of their fellowman in need and learned from the experience.

Dylan punched a command into the console, near the airlock. "Avatar Rommie no longer to serve Magog deserts."

"Captain, I hardly think the situation warrants that extreme of discipline!" complained Rommie.

"I do," muttered Rev, making his way to his quarters.

"Rev, I am sorry! How many times do you want me to apologize? Wait, Rev..." The avatar went after the Magog.

Harper was following Tyr," Ah, come on Tyr! That whipped cream in your hair gave you a very disarming appearance. Perhaps you could use it" And Tyr turned to growl and the young human. "Eep... okaaay. Hey Trance, look I am sorry! Ah come on, don't treat me like that! Hey Trance?" and off he went after the girl with the tail, holding her head in pain.

Tyr went off to his quarters to get the blue stains off his chain mail.

"Well, Dylan, it looks like you have as united a crew as you can expect," Beka said as they walked away from the airlock.

Dylan looked at her as if he hadn't heard her. "You know Beka, that Nietzschean gulash works well for you...Ow! Ow!..Ow! Hey we're a united crew remember?...Ow!"

And the Captain and First Officer left the area, the First Officer hitting the Captain ever so often.

The Commonwealth, for the moment, was safe.

~ END~


End file.
